


The food fairy fiasco

by espritneo



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Relationship, it probably borders on crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27792529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espritneo/pseuds/espritneo
Summary: Q-branch has a mysterious benefactor that leaves baked goods without a trace. Bond getsjealous.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 14
Kudos: 114
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	The food fairy fiasco

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to cheer myself up. This did it.

“Oh, the food fairy’s back! And it’s a casserole!”

“Oh! Let me see, coming through!” Peter, one of the youngest minions, fought his way through the crowd flocking towards the break room. On the counter sat a covered glass rectangular dish, its heavenly aroma of meat, onions, and gravy hitting his nostrils. He took a second luxurious whiff. 

Behind him the whispering intensified.

“I hear it’s never the same type of dish in a row.”

“The fairy’s never regular, but this one’s had the longest delay.”

“Three months.”

“I wonder who it is.”

For the past fourteen months, baked treats of the savory and sweet varieties had been showing up in Q-branch. There was no rhyme or reason to their arrival; at some point in the day (and sometimes night) a Q-branch member simply stumbled upon their presence in the break room. There was always enough for the 20-man department to at least get a piece. The fairy never left evidence that could expose their identity.

And the treats were, without exception, orgasmically delicious.

Peter served himself and, as an afterthought, dished out a second piece on a separate plate. The quartermaster was in the middle of an operation and wasn’t likely to claim his portion. 

The casserole was received quite gratefully and Peter stood off to the side, munching in contentment and basking in the food fairy’s good mood.

But good moods couldn’t last forever. 

Because that was when James Bond walked in.

—

The agent was not particularly known for visiting Q-branch without leaving a trail of chaos in his wake. He didn’t visit for _social_ reasons. R left her workstation and moved to intercept.

“Agent, what can we do for you today?”

Bond flicked his gaze over and dismissed her false concern almost immediately. “I came to see if the quartermaster was available for lunch.” He stepped around her.

“You’re a bit late, I’m afraid.” R called out behind him. “A good Samaritan has provided the branch with a delicious casserole. Q is quite set for lunch.”

Instead of looking thwarted, Bond had a small, intrigued smile on his face. He carefully leaned over Q’s left shoulder and intoned, “Enjoying lunch?”

Q gasped and jumped aside, clutching his sweater. “Unappreciated, 007! I should put a bell on you.”

Bond’s smile morphed into a full-blown grin. “I hear that the department is receiving culinary presents, Q. What do you make of this turn of events?”

“The food fairy’s deliveries are currently a mystery to us all down here. We’d put more effort into uncovering them, for security reasons, if they weren’t so bloody good at bribing us with our stomachs. Several of the minions have itemized the deliveries and produced some interesting data for a profile. The food fairy is quite proficient with an oven, however, their specialty appears to be cakes and pastries. I’m partial to their bakewell tarts, myself.” Q waggled his eyebrows conspiratorially and leaned in. “I was fortunate to find that goodie first.”

Bond was treating him with an expression of pure indulgence. R snorted and smacked her forehead lightly. God willing they ever find their way into a relationship.

—

As if to make up for their extended absence, trays of millionaire’s shortbread materialized less than two weeks later. In the quartermaster’s locked office appeared a canister of quality Earl Grey. Q informed 007 - currently in Italy - over comms that he may have found a new favorite: treat _and_ individual.

He didn’t quite fathom the icy silence 007 subjected him to for the rest of the day.

—

“What’s this?” Q peered into the paper bag. Bond settled himself in the visitor’s chair, flicking his tie imperiously as if in response. Q drew out a large chocolate babka. He broke off one end took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

Bond fairly radiated expectance.

“Thank you for the pastry, 007. It’s…not bad. Not quite as good as the food fairy’s chelsea buns, but still much appreciated.”

Bond froze. “That’s from _Dominique Ansel_.” He sounded horrified and offended.

Q shrugged unapologetically. 

Bond scowled and stormed out.

Another day…

“Delicious cupcake, but not as airy as the food fairy’s earl grey flavor with salt caramel icing.”

“I went to _Hummingbird_ for that. Do you realize how long the lines are?”

Bond was absent for a time. Then…

“This is inspiring!” Q admired the colorful cake in the shape of a tower of donuts and macaroons. “I wonder if the food fairy could replicate this.” 

Bond glowered. “I bloody bet not. That was custom ordered from _Anges de Sucre weeks_ in advance.”

Q popped an cake ice cream cone in his mouth. “Bit dry.” He made an apologetic face.

Bond spluttered.

—

Q-branch had a mildly oppressive atmosphere, simultaneously tense and dejected. Bond had been MIA for going on five days, forcing his support crew to follow his trail of destruction across continental Europe. All was going par for the course, down to their ever-present concern over his safety. 

What was unusual was that the food fairy had also been MIA, but for going on five months now.

It had been easy to overlook at first, since Bond had become a persistent puppy trailing in the quartermaster’s footsteps. The agent delivered delicacies and desserts from the city’s best bakeries, only for the quartermaster to pronounce the food fairy’s creations superior. Bond came in and out of their lives, but now when he was in them, he left hilarity not chaos in his wake.

Before they quite realized it, over four months had gone by without a delivery from the food fairy. And it was quite…disheartening. 

And concerning.

“Think we’ve offended them?” Peter muttered to his mate, Nicholas.

“Can’t imagine how, unless it’s by having Bond come by all the time.”

There was a pause. They stared at each other in horror.

Minions close enough to overhear stared at the pair of them in horror as well.

“We just thought it was _funny_.”

“No one can kick a man down like the quartermaster. And sometimes, we got the leftovers!”

Someone shushed them loudly. “And _that’s_ the problem. We have betrayed our benefactor.”

Only Q’s narrowed glare snuffed out the impending wailing and gnashing of teeth.

And yet, there was one brave soul. Peter, bless his heart, suggested tentatively, “You do see where we’re coming from, don’t you sir? You _must_ choose between Bond and the food fairy.”

—

Bond’s subsequent trip to Q-branch was met with unexpected hostility. Row after row of minions left their stations to obstruct the center aisle. He attempted to circumvent them, but like a flock of goslings, they kept getting in his way.

“Oh, for - ” Q’s voice rang out in irritation. “Please act like professionals, ladies and gents.” 

Bond escaped the throng and sought refuge at the front of the room. Q added in an undertone, “I’m terribly sorry, 007. The Branch is under the impression that the food fairy’s gone MIA out of jealousy of you.”

Bond’s face went through a complicated sequence of microexpressions, before planting his hands on the table and fairly yelling, “Oh for _Christ’s sake_ ,” His rare use of a swear had minions gasping loudly. “I’m the _fucking_ food fairy!”

“That’s impossible,” Nicholas said reasonably. “The food fairy is a spectacular baker.”

Bond’s forehead visibly throbbed. “Are you implying agents can’t cook?”

“No, just that they’re not excellent cooks.”

The entire room reared back when Bond bared his teeth.

“Say we do believe you, Bond.” Q interrupted skeptically. “Pastries are left while you’re on mission.”

Bond gave him the stink eye. “I’m not divulging my secrets that easily, Q. I get bragging rights for giving you all the runaround for a year and a half.”

Q sulked at being caught out. “Tell you this, Bond. If the food fairy ever does return, bring your own version of the treat.”

“ _Fine._ ”

“Fine.”

—

The following morning, there were three lemon drizzle cakes in the break room along with a canister of loose leaf japanese green tea. Which all the boffins stared at longingly while waiting for Bond to arrive. 

(Mary might have sent him several _nudging_ text messages.)

Bond appeared a few hours later, bearing several paper bags. The boffins swarmed him and relieved him of his packages. The two sets of lemon cakes were carefully kept apart, but equally available for all the minions to sample.

“Take them with the tea,” Bond advised mock savagely.

A few moments of silence while the staff sipped and chewed. Bond propped a hip on Q’s workstation, and waited with confident patience.

“The food fairy’s is better. Bond, yours isn’t quite…lemony.”

Bond dropped his crossed arms and looked like he regretted his life’s decisions. “They’re exactly the same. Baked at the same time. From the same cake mixture.”

Q looked at him pityingly. “Well, perhaps yours were shoved in the back. The outside’s a bit…burnt.”

—

Disappointingly, neither Bond nor the food fairy dropped by for two weeks. Bond was assigned to a disruption in the oil trade in the Arabian peninsula, where fortunately, he spent more time _on_ the peninsula which tolerated his temper better than the modern, glass and high-rise littered island of Bahrain.

Eventually, a minion tripped over a Victoria sponge cake in the break room and the department was abuzz with excitement. Whether or not Bond _was_ the food fairy, getting this many sweets in such a short period of time was well worth the fuss. 

It took only one text message to get 007 to show up and this time, he preemptively handed his parcel to the first boffin he could and skirted the outside of the horde towards Q’s workstation where the quartermaster actually granted him a small and pleased smile.

The agent said as much and Q’s cheeks flushed. “Two weeks is a change after months of frequent visits.”

“I missed you too, Q. And gratified we have grown closer despite this food fairy fiasco.” 

“Your mission to present samples from every high-class pastry shop in London was endearing, although I do worry about London’s standards if those were considered the cream of the crop.”

“You said you had a new favorite.” Bond looked at him intensely. “ _I_ am your favorite.”

Q’s reply was cut off by a minion with his slices of cake. He ate a forkful of the food fairy’s, then Bond’s, expression thoughtful.

And finally, Q was looking at him the way he should be. Like Bond was the best thing since the bakewell tart.

“My apologies, 007. Your Victoria sponge cake - _both of them_ \- are now my favorites.”

Bond impulsively leaned over the table and captured Q’s mouth in a victorious kiss.

In the background, one could hear the sound of arms being thrown up. “ _Fucking finally_ ,” R said jubilantly. And no one seemed to blink as the 5 foot 4 inch Muslim woman continued to curse up an exasperated storm.

**Author's Note:**

> For MI6 Anon Prompt Fill: Q discovers that 007 actually is quite the talented bake.


End file.
